


The Climb

by arctichamster



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Backstory, Canon Backstory, Gen, fill in the blanks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-19 23:07:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 11,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5983708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arctichamster/pseuds/arctichamster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which a day of rock climbing turns potentially tragic, and a young Gregory House makes a decision that will change the course of his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> T: Strong Language  
> G House/B House/OC  
> Summary: In which a day of rock climbing turns potentially tragic, and a young Gregory House makes a decision that will change the course of his life.
> 
> A/N1: Canonical references:  
> Son of a Coma Guy S3x07  
> Clueless S2x15  
> One Day, One Room S3x12  
> Birthmarks S5x04
> 
> A/N2: Standard Disclaimer. Of course they’re not mine. This is just another excuse for me to fill in a few blanks here and there based on the framework provided in canon. I promise to put them all back where I found them when I’m done.
> 
> Many thanks go to Doris Egan for writing Son of a Coma Guy. Her monologue that tells the story of the buraku makes for some wonderful visuals to write from, and the episode itself remains one of my favorites almost 10 years later. Thanks also to her and to David Foster for writing Birthmarks. Many thanks as well to Thomas L. Moran, who wrote Clueless -- providing the story of a very young Greg searching for mummies in Egypt and more visuals with which to write about. And of course, continuing thanks to David Shore -- not just for the exceptional One Day, One Room but for everything. There is a lot of very telling backstory about the character of Gregory House in just these 4 episodes.
> 
> A/N3: I remain profoundly grateful to Woo, Visitkarte, and BabalooBlue, who continue to be willing to be my beta readers. They may not always agree with what I write, but they still manage to read everything with an open mind. Many, many thanks as well to BlossomYoung42, who managed to edit this while dealing with her own busy schedule. Comments/criticisms welcomed, and as always all mistakes are my own.

Chapter 1

April 1973  
Yamaguchi Prefecture, Japan

Friday

14 year old Gregory House sat idly staring out the window of the second floor classroom, only vaguely listening as his English teacher droned on about sentence structure and possessive pronouns while his mind drifted toward black holes and the secrets of the universe. He was beyond bored, his right hand weaving a black ballpoint pen through his fingers even as his left unconsciously played silent piano to the strains of a piece he had come up with a few days before. 

It was spring in Japan, the last day of school before the start of _Gōruden Wīku_ , Golden Week, and Greg couldn’t wait for classes to let out and his week of freedom to begin. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do first, but he knew that once the final bell rang for the day he wasn’t going to give another thought to his studies until the last possible moment.

Greg’s father, Lt. John House, USMC, had recently been transferred to the only Marine Corps Air Station on mainland Japan and was almost immediately deployed to Vietnam with the 1st Marine Air Wing. In fact, Greg’s mom Blythe was still waiting for some of their larger pieces of furniture to be delivered by Household Goods -- _Maybe even the piano_ , Greg thought hopefully -- and while it wasn’t the first time Greg had lived overseas in his relatively short lifetime it was his first time attending an international school outside of the base’s main gate.

When the bell rang for lunch, Greg filed out of the classroom with the other students, black backpack slung over his shoulder. He automatically reached up to loosen his tie and unbutton the top buttons of his uniform shirt as they filtered into the hallway. Heading toward the cafeteria, Greg’s right shoulder was jostled by another student moving in the same direction. Glancing over, he recognized his friend Declan Hanover and punched him lightly in the arm by way of greeting. 

“So are we still going climbing this weekend?” Declan wanted to know. Both boys were tall and lanky, with medium brown hair that was only tamed by regular and close haircuts; on more than one occasion they had been mistaken for each other by their teachers. Declan had already been at the school for almost two years when Greg arrived, and being the tallest boys in their class they naturally gravitated toward each other. They soon found that they had many of the same interests in sports, music, and books. Like Greg, Declan had moved frequently in his short life, living in 5 different countries before the age of 12. His father was in the Foreign Service, and their time in Japan bordered on the longest he’d lived anywhere, ever.

Greg looked over and shrugged. “That’s the plan. Dad’s on deployment with the 1st MAW and the way the war’s been going, who knows how long he’ll be gone. Mom’s still waiting on some of our stuff to get delivered, but we’ve already unpacked and organized everything else. Since the house is squared away, I’m pretty sure she won’t mind.”

“Cool. I found a couple of my dad’s old climbing ropes. He said we could borrow them as long as we promise not to do anything crazy.”

Greg chuckled and tried to look innocent. “That doesn’t sound like us. What could possibly give him that idea?”

Declan laughed. The boys entered the cafeteria joking and jostling each other as they moved to stand in line with the other students.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Declan and Greg took their food-laden trays and wandered casually over to a table next to the wall of plate glass windows at the far side of the cafeteria, joining several of their classmates who had arrived before them. As the group ate and chatted, Greg found himself withdrawing mentally from the chatter. He was a solitary being by nature, and never felt comfortable with the idle conversation and gossip his classmates often enjoyed during the lunch period. They had quickly become used to his silences, knowing that he would only join in when he found something interesting to comment on. 

Greg sat shoveling food into his mouth as the conversation droned on around him, only shaken from his wandering thoughts by a sharp kick to his shin. He glanced up with a start. “What?” He said distractedly, looking across the table to see who kicked him. His chemistry lab partner, Megan Farnham, was staring at him as if she were trying to bore holes into his brain with her eyes. Greg stared back until her gaze became uncomfortable. Blushing slightly, he went back to the task of shoveling food into his mouth.

Talk soon turned to the group’s plans during the _Gōruden Wīku_ holiday. Megan and her friends Laura and Hannah were excited about taking the train into the city to partake in some of the celebrations. Greg and Declan told the group about their plan to go rock climbing in the nearby mountains, while the last member of their group, Ethan Digby, the son of a Royal Marine who was stationed at the same base as Greg’s father, grumbled about having to be stuck at home with his younger siblings while their Japanese nanny took some time off to be with her family.

The group dropped their trays off at the scullery on their way out as the first bell for the next class rang. One by one they splintered off toward their respective classrooms until Greg found himself alone. His next class period was free, something he looked forward to for more than having some time to himself during the school day. Greg turned down the corridor leading to the school’s conservatory and the grand piano in the main practice hall. The hall was empty, with no classes scheduled during that period, which Greg considered to be pure serendipity as he slid onto the piano bench and placed his hands on the keyboard. Within seconds he was lost to the music that before then had only been heard inside his head.

\-------------------------

The music director was in his office going through notations his instructors had made to the orchestral charts they were planning to use for the _Gōruden Wīku_ recital the upcoming week when he heard the first melancholy strains coming from the main practice hall. _Only one person in this school plays like that_ , he thought wryly as he checked his watch and heard the music shift into a blues-tinged jazz riff. Gregory House’s mother had made it a point to meet with him directly the day she registered her son in the school. She wanted to make sure that there were a variety of musical outlets for young Greg to explore, knowing that it was one of the few ways in which he could occupy himself during the school day without getting bored. The music director assured Mrs. House that her son would receive a quality musical education within his department. He was more than slightly taken aback when she chuckled, replying, “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

\-------------------------

Greg played without pause, shifting from one style of music to the next, until he heard the bell. He finished the riff he was improvising off a classical piece before sighing deeply and taking up his backpack. He left the practice hall as silently as he’d arrived.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Greg made his way through the crowded hall toward the chemistry lab and entered the classroom only moments before the second bell. Megan was already waiting for him at their large wooden lab table. He dropped his backpack to the floor and straightened his uniform even as the teacher came in through a side entrance and took his place at the front of the class.

Megan, Greg, and the 10 other students sat attentively while they waited for the demonstration to begin. Unlike some of his teachers, Greg’s chemistry teacher was all business as he went through the process of demonstrating the day’s experiments, but by the end of class was usually downright jovial.

As the teacher began to describe the experiment based on the previous day’s lecture, the students pulled out scientific notebooks and began to take notes while following the process that had been typed and printed onto blue-tinged mimeograph pages. Megan and Greg followed along, setting up the flasks and graduated beakers they would need for the experiment onto the thick, black chemical-resistant surface. When the teacher had finished, he walked up the center aisle between the 3 rows of lab tables, passing out measured amounts of chemicals to each pair of students. As soon as he set the chemicals down on their bench, Greg and Megan began their work. They had developed a routine over the few weeks he had been there, one setting up beakers containing distilled water for dissolving the chemicals while the other went to the wooden glass-paneled cabinets for some of the more inert ingredients and supplies.

Greg thought back to when he was 8 and his dad had gotten orders to a remote Marine Corps Base in Egypt. He couldn’t remember when he had ever seen so much sand in one place -- and they had spent a few months before the transfer at Marine Corps Base Twentynine Palms acclimating to the desert conditions. All that sand, as far as the eye could see, no matter where you looked, fueled the overactive imagination of an 8 year old boy and he couldn’t wait to start searching for a mummy’s tomb behind their unit in base housing. He never did find a mummy, but every time he dug something up he would bring it inside and test it with the old chemistry set that had been left to him by his grandfather. It fascinated him, the wooden chest so big and heavy Greg could hardly drag it out from under his bed. Some of the old stoppered tubes were empty, some seemed to be filled with plain water for all the good they did when he tried to use them, and he had a really hard time trying to read the tightly written cursive on the labels of others. But there were enough tubes with chemicals inside that Greg was able to spend hours trying to prove that a mummy had been buried in their backyard of sand.

Megan passed the first of the solutions over to Greg, who wrote the contents down in his notebook before pouring it into the large beaker containing a magnetic mixing bar as she mixed together the second solution. They repeated the process a third time before Greg went to the back cabinets to get a stirring plate they would use to mix their solutions and plugged it into an outlet mounted in the middle of the table riser. After pulling on safety goggles, Megan poured the measured amount of the first solution into the second. Greg placed the beaker onto the stirring plate and turned it on, adjusting the speed until a rather large vortex formed. Megan added the third solution and over the next several minutes they watched their colorless solution change between something clear, something amber, and something that was a deep blue color. They were so fascinated with what was happening that they almost forgot to write lab notes and document what they were seeing. Their fellow classmates were experiencing similar results and soon the lab echoed with the sounds of excited murmuring. 

And then it was over. While the students finished noting their observations, the teacher explained in more detail the chemical reactions they’d witnessed. Afterward, when all of the chemicals had been properly disposed of and the equipment cleaned and put away, the teacher spent the last few minutes of the session chatting with the students about their plans for the week ahead.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Moving through the masses of students towards the boys’ locker room, Greg was antsy, all but counting down the minutes until the end of school. He had one more class after PhysEd, first level Japanese, and then freedom for an entire week. Entering the locker room, he quickly dumped his backpack into his locker and changed into the dark blue shorts and grey t-shirt of his gym clothes as all around him his classmates did the same. He sat apart from the others, paying them little mind as he tied his sneakers. Greg was just about to head out to the field when Declan dropped down onto the bench next to him. He was slightly out of breath, and hurried to change. Greg waited for him to finish, and together they trotted through the access tunnel toward the field. 

They joined the class in formation as the teacher led the students in a rigorous series of calisthenics and stretches. Ten minutes later they were running the trail that wove through the small patch of woods at the back of the campus. With their long legs, it wasn’t difficult for Greg and Declan to lead the pack, but they paced themselves to better blend in. They ignored any efforts by other runners to split them up, disrupt their stride, seeing it for the good-natured challenges that kept the run interesting. 

The boys completed 2 circuits of the trail course before gathering on the field to cool down. They collapsed on the ground, laying on their backs gasping for air, or walking off their fatigue. Declan and Greg paced in large circles around the group, drinking water from canteens and making plans for the next day. They decided to meet outside the gates of the Embassy where Declan lived first thing in the morning and ride their bikes to the trail head near the base of the ridge they planned to climb. 

Dismissed by the teacher with an admonition to try not to have too much fun during their holiday week, the class booed him down good-naturedly before joking and teasing their way back into the locker room.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

With 15 minutes left until the end of the school day and the beginning of his week of freedom, Greg could barely concentrate on his lesson. “Ressha wa nijū-bu no ha.”, _The train leaves in 20 minutes_ , Greg translated in his head as he parroted the sentence back to the teacher with the rest of the class. Even though Greg had only been studying first level Japanese for a few weeks, Declan had been helping him catch up to the other students, to the point that he almost felt as though he was slightly further along than everyone else. It helped that he enjoyed languages. They were interesting, and kept his brain engaged. The downside, of course, was that he frequently found himself distracted. This was one of those times, and it was all Greg could do not to come up with some kind of plausible excuse to get out of class early. He had done it before, on days when he was so apathetic about the whole thing it was about the only way to keep from having to pay a visit to the headmaster. 

Watching the clock didn’t help matters either, but it was the only thing other than the teacher himself that seemed to be moving -- even if it was at a snail’s pace. He wished the class wasn’t being held in one of the interior classrooms of the school; there were times when it felt like being trapped in a box with a dozen other people, none of whom he really cared to spend much time with beyond the required 45 minute lesson.

When the bell finally rang, cheers could be heard filtering out from virtually every classroom in the building. The hallways were filled to capacity, students all moving with a single mind toward the exits. The going was slow, but finally Greg crossed the threshold into daylight and freedom. Declan was waiting for him at the bike racks and together they raced away from the campus as fast as they could pedal. 

\-------------------------

20 minutes later the boys arrived at the gates of the US Embassy. Two Marines in their dress blues stood guard on either side of the gate, their weapons held across their chest at port arms. Greg had to admit it looked pretty cool. Declan had to show an ID to get through the gates, much like Greg had to show his in order to get on base. Once Declan was on the other side of the wrought iron fence, with a promise to call him later to figure out what supplies they’d need the next day, Greg started his own ride toward home.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Greg rode up to the main gate of the base several minutes later and presented his dependent’s ID card to the MPs on duty. They knew him well, but with the war in full swing everyone who needed to get on base had to show an ID and every car had to be searched before being allowed on board. Greg passed through the gate and rode down the main stretch of road before turning onto a side street that led into one of several neighborhoods of officer’s quarters on base. A couple of minutes after that and he was riding into the driveway of their own modest unit, a small single-family house with a very tidy postage stamp-sized yard. 

Leaning his bike against the house so that it was out of the way, Greg went inside. Blythe House was in the small dining room putting dishes away in the china cabinet. Greg went over and kissed her on the cheek.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Hi, honey. How was your day?”

“Fine. Seemed to drag on _forever_ ,” he said, drawing out the last word and rolling his eyes as she laughed. It was like this between them, casual and relaxed and without the tension that pervaded their lives when Dad was around. It was at times like these that Greg wished his dad would never come home. Not that John House was his real dad anyway. A couple of summers before, Greg had figured out that the man he’d always known as his father was not his biological father. At 12, he was almost as tall as his dad and had begun to push back against the rigorous demands his father made of him. During one of their more heated arguments, Greg had made it very clear that he knew the truth. That summer came to be known in Greg’s mind as The Summer of Silence. His dad refused to talk to him, or even acknowledge his existence. Anything he needed to say he would type up on the old Smith-Corona typewriter in his study and slide under Greg’s door. House the elder and House the younger reached an odd sort of truce as they settled into the new routine that summer, while Blythe was left to watch the two headstrong men in her life and wait for the moment when she would be forced to intervene yet again.

Greg wandered into the small kitchen, opened the refrigerator door and stood there, waiting for inspiration to strike while his stomach growled. Not seeing anything of interest, he made himself a peanut butter sandwich and headed into his bedroom, tossing his backpack into a corner on his way over to the desk against the far wall. Greg absently munched his sandwich while making a list for the next day, not even noticing when the sandwich was gone. He went back into the kitchen, where Blythe was busying herself with making dinner, and poured himself a glass of milk. He casually leaned against the counter as he drank and watched his mom’s efficient movements. She glanced over at him and smiled.

“Last day of school for a week, isn’t it?”

“Yep.”

Blythe eyed her son wryly as she asked her next question. “How ever are you going manage to keep yourself out of trouble?”

Greg grinned. She knew him too well. “Declan and I are going for a hike tomorrow over by _Sebun kawa_ \-- Seven Rivers.” At his mom’s look, he continued. “Don’t worry, Mom. The trails are clearly marked. A person would have to be an idiot to get themselves lost up there.”

Blythe was not so easily mollified. “You two aren’t going to try anything crazy up there, are you? I know how you boys can get when left to your own devices. Don’t forget what happened the last time you two went off on your own.”

Greg considered her words. He had gone exploring with Declan not long after they met, just before his dad left with the air wing. Declan was showing him around the prefecture, and they’d inadvertently ridden their bikes into an area of the city where foreigners, _gaikoku hito_ , were forbidden. Word spread quickly to both the Embassy and the Marine base, and when John House caught wind of it via his Commanding Officer, Greg found himself enduring several nights of sleeping in the damp cold of the backyard wearing nothing more than a pair of shorts and a t-shirt after a couple of grueling hours doing mountain climbers with minimal water breaks -- during which his dad would bark out commands to recite from the General Orders for Sentries. The memory of that all-too recent time was filed away in the innermost reaches of Greg’s mind, and it broke the lightness of the mood in the room.

Greg’s blue eyes darkened. “I haven’t forgotten,” he said tersely, straightening up and moving to rinse his glass in the sink. 

Blythe caught him by the arm as he turned to retreat back into his room. “Honey, I wasn’t trying to upset you. I just want to make sure you boys are going to be careful.” She smiled at her son fondly and patted his cheek. “I’m a mom. I worry about these things.” She decided to change the subject. “I got a call from Household Goods today. They’re going to deliver the piano on Monday.”

Greg looked up, pleasantly surprised. “Seriously? Cool.” 

He walked over to the stove and lifted the lid on a simmering pot to reveal a thick meaty pasta sauce inside. It smelled great, and despite the fact that Greg had just eaten he could feel his stomach begin to rumble with hunger again. Blythe heard the sound and laughed. Her son was at that age where he could eat virtually everything in sight and still be hungry.

“Dinner will be ready in about an hour. Think that peanut butter sandwich will tide you over until then?”

Greg couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yeah. I’m good.”


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

After finishing dinner and helping his mom with the cleanup, Greg went back into the sanctuary of his bedroom. He added a few more items to his list for the next day, then went over to the corner and took up the guitar case that leaned against the wall. He laid the case on the floor and opened it, revealing a guitar with a deep brown finish that he had bought the previous summer with money he had saved. It was one of the few possessions he had that didn’t fit into the locker box on the floor at the foot of his bed, and he often spent hours practicing and teaching himself new techniques. Greg loved to get lost in the music even as he struggled with many of the chord changes. He still thought it sounded like shit much of the time, but there was a part of him that loved listening to it just the same. Some days he played for so long his fingertips would split and bleed on the steel strings, but that hadn’t happened nearly as often since he’d finally started to develop calluses. 

Greg sat on the edge of the bed with his guitar and began to play, mostly random chords that seemed to fit together. His brain felt free to wander as his fingers played along the fretboard; he was getting better at playing without looking to see where his fingers were. He switched from strumming to picking, which required more concentration while he tried to figure out how to hit each individual string in order to make it sound just right. 

After several minutes Greg stopped, sighing. He was feeling distracted again, excited about the next day’s adventure in the mountains. He gently put the guitar away in the case and placed it back in the corner, then went into the kitchen and dialed the number Declan had given him for his family’s residence at the Embassy. It took a few minutes of the phone call being transferred from one extension to another, but finally Declan was on the line and the boys got down to solidifying their plans for the morning.

They decided to get an early start. The weather was supposed to be clear and mild, which made both boys quite happy. Declan had pulled out the climbing ropes from his dad’s old box of gear, along with a few other things he thought might come in handy. Declan’s dad had been a serious climber in his younger days, and it was a running joke in their family that one day they would wake up to find that he had left them on a whim to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro.

The boys talked for several minutes, mostly about music. Declan played the violin and viola at near-prodigy levels, and while that usually kept him anchored in the classical music world there was nothing he liked more than to break from tedium and play around with some of the jazz fusion music he liked to listen to on the radio.

\--------------------------

After getting off the phone with Declan, Greg went out to the small garage and rummaged around some of the boxes where his dad kept his old gear and extra supplies. He gathered up several packages of comrats (combat rations), food that under normal circumstances tasted like cardboard and paste -- but they were compact and full of the protein, carbs and fats that could keep a Marine going for days. If things happened to go south and they had to spend the night, the peanut butter sandwiches Mom had made for them were not going to last very long.

Greg continued to rummage through boxes, adding a couple of shiny mylar space blankets that had been developed by NASA and had recently started to make their way into the equipment packs of Marines. He added a couple of first aid kits and a couple of compact survival kits to the pile, just in case. After grabbing several canteens, Greg put the boxes back the way he’d found them and pulled out an old metal-framed M-1956 Load-Carrying Equipment (LCE) pack his dad had used during his days as an enlisted Marine before he went to the Naval Academy and Officer Candidate School. He packed their supplies, leaving room for an extra sweater and jacket, and took the pack with him into the house. He carried it into his room, where he added a few extra items from the locker box at the foot of his bed and reorganized everything so the pack settled evenly on his back. Finally satisfied, Greg took the pack off and leaned it against the wall. He grabbed a t-shirt and a pair of pajama pants and headed into the bathroom to shower. Crawling under the covers after he was finished, Greg was so excited he didn’t think he’d be able to sleep. He lay there, going over everything several times in his mind, trying to plan for every contingency until his brain finally shut down.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Saturday

Greg settled the pack onto his back so that the wire hangers wouldn’t dig into his body and headed out into the early morning mist toward the Embassy. He’d filled the canteens and made sure to leave a note for his mom before leaving the house. The MPs waved him through the gate, no doubt wondering what sort of mischief Lt. House’s son was off to get himself into.

Greg rode through the quiet streets of the prefecture, glad to have that time in the near silence before the district came to life. He pulled up in front of the Embassy, where Declan was waiting for him, and the two of them set off toward the nearby mountains. 

The boys reached the main trailhead marker an hour later and found an unobtrusive place in the brush to leave their bikes. They did a final check of their gear and started up the trail. The trail wasn’t very steep, and the mountain itself wasn’t much more than a large hill with a nearly sheer cliff on one side, but it still took a few hours to get to the base of the rock face they’d chosen to climb. 

The well-marked trail was full of twists and turns as the boys hiked. Their excited conversation in the early stages of the hike drifted away into nothing as the trail became steeper and required more of their concentration. They stopped for a water break, to give their backs and legs a reprieve, and munched on peanut butter sandwiches as they relaxed. 

Reenergized and back on the trail, Greg and Declan made their way closer to the base of the mountain. The trail had gone from smoothly graded at the trailhead to the rocky and woven narrow path with exposed tree roots that they were currently on. The going was slower as they chose their footsteps more carefully; neither boy wanted to twist an ankle and be forced to abandon the climb.

The mist had burned off and the day had turned sunny and warm by the time they reached the base of the cliff. The boys dropped their packs and began to pull out gear. In addition to the ropes, Declan had brought several carabiners and some climbing chalk; everything else in the boxes of old climbing equipment had looked way too technical for what he and Greg were going to be doing.

Greg took out a couple of comrats, the first aid kits and his folding knife and stuffed them into the cargo pockets of the old olive green utility pants that his dad had long outgrown. He used a couple of the carabiners to hang canteens from the equipment belt at his waist. They left their packs at the bottom of the cliff and started climbing. Declan had one of the ropes slung across his body, the rest of the carabiners clipped to the belt loops on his jeans. They took their time going up, stopping to rest whenever they reached a ledge large enough for both of them. The rock was more complex than it looked from the base -- smooth with solid hand- and footholds in some places, crumbly in others, and still others were slick with damp moss from the overnight dew. 

It was slow going, but Declan and Greg finally pulled themselves up over the summit and collapsed in a heap of labored breathing, sweat, rock fragments, dust and climbing chalk. They drained their canteens and ate the comrats while taking in the view. The prefecture spread out beneath them, and they could see everything clear out to the Air Station located on the edge of the Seto Inland Sea. 

Eventually they decided it was time to head back down so as not to get caught on the rock face when it was dark. Declan anchored the rope around a tree in such a way that one of them would be able to make the descent and then support the weight of the other as he came down. The plan then was that once they were both at the bottom they’d just pull the rope through, leaving only the carabiner behind. 

Declan started down first, with the rope looped around his waist through another carabiner and Greg keeping the line loose enough so that if Declan fell he would only fall a few feet at best. Things went smoothly until Declan was about 20 feet from the base. He had been concentrating on placing his hands and feet on the way down that he never noticed that the knot keeping the rope around his waist had loosened. It came undone at the same time he lost his footing against the rock and he fell, a ledge only stopping his fall for the briefest of moments. Greg watched in shock as his friend landed hard at the base of the rock face, the back of his skull nearly slamming into a boulder as he came to a stop. He only knew that Declan was still alive by the sounds of moaning that carried up from the ground.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Greg tried to keep his wits about him as he secured the rope to his waist, calling down to Declan every couple of minutes and trying to abseil down the rock face as quickly as possible without ending up in the same situation. His mind was racing as he descended, trying to remember everything he’d been taught about first aid and field dressings. Greg looked down periodically to check his progress. He kept calling down to Declan, trying to keep him talking so he wouldn’t pass out.

By the time Greg reached the base of the rock, Declan was struggling to get to his feet, insisting that he was okay. Greg quickly untied the rope from his waist and moved to stop his friend from standing up. Declan finally relented and lay back. He was bleeding from several deep gashes and scrapes on his head and body, and his right arm was bent at a very unnatural angle. Greg pulled the first aid kit from his cargo pocket and set to work, trying to stop the bleeding on a small but deep puncture wound in Declan’s side while at the same time trying to keep him talking and figure out how to splint his arm.

Greg could tell that Declan was having a tough time following instructions and seemed to be going into shock. He pulled the rope down from the rock face and stashed it out of sight with the packs, hoping that no one would notice that they’d been there. Greg was grateful that the hike back to the trailhead where their bikes were was downhill, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t going to be precarious, at least until they got to the smooth graded path further down. 

Greg shook Declan back into awareness. “Declan. You’ve gotta work with me here, buddy. You’re going to have to stay awake, okay?” He pulled out one of the mylar space blankets and wrapped it around Declan’s shoulders to keep him warm.

Declan murmured a rather lethargic and slightly slurred, “N’kay,” but he managed to stay coherent enough to walk down the trail, supported by Greg, without tripping over anything. They stopped frequently so that Greg could keep an eye on the puncture wound in Declan’s side. He kept adding or replacing gauze pads each time they stopped, but the wound kept bleeding. 

They continued down the trail, making slow progress as the afternoon wore on. Greg tried to get them moving faster once the trail began to get easier, but Declan was having too much trouble keeping his footing. He was complaining of dizziness and Greg noticed that his skin was feeling clammy. He knew there was no way Declan was going to be able to ride his bike, so as soon as they reached the road beyond the trailhead Greg started looking for someone who might be able to help him get Declan to a hospital. 

As he waited, he tried to think of the Japanese words for “help” and “hospital” -- they weren’t that far along in first level Japanese, not that Greg would have ever thought he would have needed to know such words so soon. He asked Declan, but Declan was too far out of it to do much more than try to stay on his feet. 

The wait seemed to take forever, but finally an old truck rumbled to a stop alongside them. The driver leaned across the seat and rolled the window down.

“Nani ga mondaidesu ka?” _What is the problem?_

Greg shrugged and shook his head at the driver, although he had a pretty good idea what the driver had asked him.

“Anata wa watashitachi o tasukeru koto ga dekimasu ka?” _Can you help us?_ Greg stumbled over the words as he spoke and fervently hoped the driver would at least get the gist of what he was trying to say. “Watashi no yujin go kega o shite imasu。” _My friend is hurt._

Greg held his breath as he waited for the driver to process the young man’s mangled words. He nodded, seeming to understand, and opened the passenger door to let the boys into the truck. Greg breathed a sigh of relief to himself as he helped to get his lethargic friend inside, then climbed in.

“Anata wa, sensei o teishi kansha。” _Thank you for stopping, sir._

Once Greg was settled and the driver had pulled his truck back onto the road, the driver looked over at the boys. He said something in rapid-fire Japanese that went completely over Greg’s head; the only thing Greg could think of to say in response was the word for hospital, byõin. The driver nodded as they headed back into town. 

Greg looked over at Declan, whose skin had taken on a grey tinge. He seemed to be having a having a difficult time breathing. Greg worried about how much blood Declan may have lost and his trouble staying awake. Greg talked to him the entire ride to the hospital, occasionally imploring Declan to stay with him any time he noticed Declan starting to lose consciousness.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

The driver of the old truck pulled into the hospital parking lot and stopped in front of the nearest door. Greg thanked the man before struggling to get Declan out of the passenger side while still managing to keep him on his feet. He draped Declan’s left arm over his shoulder, readjusted the space blanket, and together they slowly made their way into the building. 

Greg stopped them just inside the doorway. They stood at the end of a long white hall, with no indication as to what part of the hospital they were in. An older man in grey work clothes with a bucket and mop diligently worked his way down the otherwise empty corridor. In passing, Greg asked the janitor in very broken Japanese how to get to the Emergency Department. The janitor pointed, and Greg caught the words for “turn left” in his directions. Greg thanked the man, readjusted Declan’s arm over his shoulder, and hoped they were heading the right way.

Eventually they arrived in Emergency, where the staff took one look at Declan and whisked him off to an examination area, leaving Greg alone and slightly disoriented at the cacophony of foreign sounds all around him. He sat in a chair across from where Declan was being examined, his head in his hands, the events of the afternoon playing through his mind in an endless loop. 

Glancing at his watch, it was only then that Greg realized just how late the time had gotten. He needed to call his mom and Declan’s parents. Making his way through the busy department, Greg approached the nurse’s station.

“Sumimasen,” Greg started haltingly. _Excuse me._

A nurse looked up at the bloody and disheveled young man. “Hai?”

“Eigo o hanasemasu ka?” _Do you speak English?_ That was one phrase Greg didn’t have to wrack his brain for. He had used it a lot in the short time since they had moved into the prefecture. 

“Yes,” the nurse responded. “What can I help you with?” Her English was heavily accented, but easily understood. 

“Is there a telephone I can use? I need to call my friend’s parents.”

The nurse directed him to a phone at the end of the desk. Greg called the Embassy first and explained to Declan’s mom what had happened. He had to ask the nurse for the name of the hospital. Mrs. Hanover thanked Greg and told him that she and her husband were on their way.

Greg’s next phone call was to his mom. She answered on the first ring, which told him that she was worried and waiting for him to call. Her first words on picking up the phone confirmed it.

“Greg? Honey? Where are you? What happened? Are you boys okay?”

Greg sighed, assuring Blythe that he was okay before launching into a more detailed explanation as to what had happened during their climb and what hospital they were at. She told him that she would be there as soon as she could, sounding more than a bit worried -- not just for her son, but for his friend as well. 

Ending the call, Greg thanked the nurse and went back to his seat. There was still a lot of activity coming from the behind the curtain where they were working on Declan, but none of the staff even noticed him. 

So he waited.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Declan’s parents were the first to arrive in the Emergency Department, making a beeline for the nurse’s station to try and get an update on their son’s condition. The nurse directed them over to where Greg sat waiting while she went to let the doctor know they had arrived. 

Greg stood as they approached, nervously greeting Declan’s mom and shaking hands with his father. They took in his filthy and bloody clothing and checked to make sure that he was okay before immediately asking him questions about how the accident had occurred. Greg insisted that he was fine, and recounted details of the event that he hadn’t mentioned during the phone call. 

Several minutes later a doctor came out from behind the curtain and approached Declan’s parents. Greg stood off to the side, listening in as the doctor explained the situation. Declan’s condition sounded pretty serious, but not life-threatening, which didn’t do much to ease Greg’s mind. 

Blythe arrived soon after the doctor went back into the examination area to continue treating Declan. She quickly went to her son and hugged him as he stood.

“Hi, mom.”

Blythe held Greg at arm’s length, looking his disheveled body from head to toe to assure herself that her son wasn’t injured. 

“Honey, you look terrible. Are you okay?”

Greg shifted uncomfortably at the overt attention. “I’m fine,” he insisted. The last thing he wanted to do was to have to explain what happened again. He breathed a sigh of relief and sat back down as his mom, having reassured herself that none of the blood was Greg’s, went over to talk with Declan’s parents.

\-------------------------

By the time Blythe brought her son home it was late and any adrenaline left in Greg’s body had leeched away, leaving him physically and mentally exhausted. Blythe sent him off to shower and change while she reheated leftovers for him from the previous night. She worried that Greg would blame himself even as she knew that he would never admit it to her if he did. Secretly she was glad that her husband was currently deployed and would likely never hear about what had happened. John had a way of pushing Greg’s buttons that virtually guaranteed a confrontation now that Greg was old enough to push back. She knew from experience that things would escalate quickly and that Greg would end up suffering through one of the myriad of military-style punishments John was known to use on his son from his days as a Drill Instructor.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Greg stood under the shower head and let the hot water cascade over his body, finally allowing his muscles to loosen. He scrubbed as hard as he could to get every last trace of a reminder off his body and watched as the brownish-red of the dried blood and the deep brown from the dirt swirled down the drain. He shampooed his hair several times to ensure that rock dust and dirt got washed down the drain as well.

Finally satisfied that he was as clean as he was going to get, Greg shut off the water and grabbed a towel from a hook next to the tub, beginning to dry himself before climbing out onto the bathmat. He could smell the sauce from the previous day’s leftovers, and knew that his mom had likely made a fresh batch of spaghetti to go with it. Just the thought of it made his stomach growl audibly, and he tried to remember when he’d eaten last but everything about the day was still a blur in his mind. The only time it seemed like he could recount things clearly was when verbally describing the events. Only then could his mind deal with it in a rational, logical manner rather than to have his brain endlessly chew on it, unable to find answers to questions he didn’t know.

\-------------------------

Greg put on a pair of sweats, tossed his towel into the laundry hamper, and seriously considered burning the clothes he had peeled off before stuffing them into the hamper as well. He was so hungry by then that he was drawn into the kitchen by the smell of food like a moth to a flame. 

Blythe watched her son drag himself into the dining room and seat himself in front of the plate of spaghetti and sauce she’d put together for him. He sat there unmoving for several moments, and she briefly wondered if he might not fall asleep right then and there. Food ultimately won out as she knew it would, and Blythe watched with amazement as Greg seemed to take mere moments to inhale what was on his plate and down a large glass of milk along with it. She met him halfway as he brought his glass and plate into the kitchen; taking them from him, she insisted that she would take care of it as she placed the items into the sink. Greg stood there, swaying on his feet with fatigue and a thousand-yard stare until Blythe turned him around and pointed him in the direction of his bedroom.

Greg staggered down the narrow hallway and bodily rolled around the door frame into his room. He collapsed face down across the bed and was asleep almost instantly.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Sunday

Greg woke slowly, bleary-eyed and aching. He was surprised to find himself still on top of the bed and completely tangled in the covers. After an initial time in relative unconsciousness, he had tossed and turned the rest of the night. He felt responsible, his brain continuing to try and figure out what went wrong and what he might have done differently. 

Untangling himself, Greg got up stiffly and made his way into the bathroom. He emptied his bladder, then went to the sink and splashed water on his face. Regarding his image in the mirror, he noticed the furrows that had begun to etch themselves into his forehead and the dark circles of fatigue under his eyes that made him look like he’d barely survived the fight of his life.

Greg dressed quickly, pulling on the t-shirt, well-worn jeans and sneakers that was his usual weekend attire before heading into the kitchen. Blythe was already there, sitting at the table reading the base newspaper. She looked up at her son as he entered the room.

“‘Morning, honey. How did you sleep?”

“‘Morning.” Greg mumbled. “Fine. Can you give me a ride to the hospital?”

“Of course. You really should eat first, though. Can I make you something?”

Greg thought about it. He knew she was right -- if he didn’t eat before he left the house, he would probably be too distracted once he got to the hospital to remember.

“No thanks. I’ll just take a bagel with me. I can always grab some rice and fish in the cafeteria if I get hungry later.”

Blythe would have preferred to cook for her son, but knew that he was stubborn enough that if she pushed back too much he wouldn’t eat at all. She looked him over. The previous day’s events had definitely taken a toll on her son mentally, although she knew he’d never say a word about it.

\-------------------------

The drive to the hospital was a quiet one. Blythe parked the car and together they went inside. They stopped at the front desk long enough for them to find out what room Declan had been moved into. The receptionist’s English was not nearly as fluent as the nurse in the Emergency Department, so it was several minutes before they were on their way to the proper floor. Once there, the desk nurse directed them to Declan’s room.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Declan’s parents were discussing their son’s condition with his attending physician when Blythe and Greg entered the room. The doctor, whom Mrs. Hanover introduced as _Dokutā Nakano_ \-- Dr. Nakano -- was reluctant to share information about his patient in front of people who were not immediate family, but Declan’s mom insisted that whatever he was going to say Blythe and her son needed to hear it as well.

Greg looked over at Declan while the doctor discussed the case with the adults. He was either asleep or unconscious, Greg wasn’t really sure which. Declan’s right arm was encased in plaster and suspended over his head by a series of pulleys. Greg watched the monitors closely, trying to decipher the meaning behind the numbers. They appeared to be holding steady for the moment, although it seemed to him that Declan’s temperature was a bit high. 

Turning his attention back to what the doctor was saying, he wished that he understood more about what was going on with his friend. It sounded like somehow Declan was starting to develop an infection, which would explain why his temperature was a bit high. It also sounded like they weren’t quite sure where the infection was coming from. The doctor explained that they had put Declan on a course of antibiotics (amongst other drugs Greg had never heard of) and were going to give it 24 hours to start to work in his system. 

The doctor finished updating the four of them, then excused himself and left the room. Declan’s mom moved over to sit next to her son and hold his hand while her husband stood behind her and rested his hand on her shoulder in support. Blythe pulled Greg aside near the doorway. She handed him a $10 bill and folded it into his hand.

“I’m going home. Feel free to stay as long as you want. Declan’s parents will give you a ride back. Have the MPs call me if they can’t get on base with your ID and their credentials and I’ll come down and pick you up.”

Blythe hugged her son, who returned the gesture awkwardly. He’d never been an overly affectionate child, and now that he was a teenager she could feel him tense any time she moved to give him a hug in public. 

Greg tolerated his mom’s embrace, feeling his cheeks grow warm at what must have looked like an odd spectacle. He was already taller than her by several inches, but it never failed to make him feel like a little kid when she hugged him. One of these days I’m going to have to tell her how weird this feels, Greg thought as he waited for her to release him. He put up with the humiliation only because he knew it made her feel better.

\-------------------------

After Blythe left, Greg excused himself and headed down to the cafeteria to see what there was to eat. He chose a bowl of rice with strips of fish and vegetables covering the top, making sure to grab a small pot of the green wasabi mustard for some spice, a small bowl of miso soup, and a bottle of Coke and carried them to the register on a tray. He’d forgotten that since this was a Japanese hospital he would be expected to pay in yen rather than dollars, but the cashier merely referred to a conversion chart on her register and gave Greg his change in the local currency. 

Greg ate quickly, taking mere minutes to finish his meal. He took his tray to the scullery window on his way out and hurried back up to Declan’s room. He wanted to make sure he was there when his friend woke up.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

The mood when Greg entered Declan’s room was decidedly more serious than when he’d left. Dr. Nakano had returned, and was accompanied by two other doctors whose names Greg didn’t catch. They were in deep discussion with Declan’s parents and seemed oblivious to Greg’s presence. He wandered over to his friend’s bedside and watched the silent form breathe in, breathe out. He studied the numbers on the machines again, and saw that Declan’s temperature had gone up a bit more. He hoped that it didn’t go up too much higher before the antibiotics had a chance to work.

When the doctors had gone, Declan’s parents filled Greg in. They had gotten some test results back, and it appeared that things were a bit more complicated than they’d originally thought. Dr. Nakano was still confident that once the antibiotics began to work things would settle down and Declan would start to get better. Until then, they would just have to wait.

Greg sat down next to the bed. He hated waiting. It was one of the few things he did worse than just about anything. He looked around for something to read, wishing he’d thought to bring a book. There were a couple of magazines on a side table, but they were written in Japanese so he didn’t give them another thought. 

After several long minutes of nothing going on except answering questions from Declan’s parents about how he liked living in Japan, how he liked the school, whether he had heard from his dad -- all very generic questions to which Greg gave very generic answers -- Greg announced that he was going to go get some coffee and offered to get some for the Hanovers. They both declined and Greg made his escape, suddenly feeling a desperate need to be anywhere but there. It had become obvious that Declan was not going to wake up anytime soon, and the silence in the room as his friend’s parents paced and hovered over their son had become so awkward at times as to be almost deafening.

Greg wandered the halls of each floor as he made his way back down to the cafeteria. He watched the efficient movements of doctors, nurses, and other staff. It occurred to him as he stood in the hall of one ward, casually watching through an open door while two doctors appeared to argue over a patient’s condition, that every patient was like a puzzle -- some easy to diagnose, some complicated -- but each one unique with variables. There was something to it that Greg found almost as intriguing as the mysteries of the universe, but the downside was having to interact with so many people on a daily basis. 

Approaching the cafeteria from a different corridor brought Greg past a small gift shop. He picked up a couple of English-language magazines and a book to keep himself distracted upstairs, then decided to forgo the coffee and bought a couple of bottles of Coke instead. He nodded at Declan’s parents as he reentered the room, taking up his place in the chair next to the bed and all but ignoring them as he settled in while they sat on the other side of the room talking quietly between themselves.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Later that evening after the nurse came through to check Declan’s vital signs for what seemed like the hundredth time that day and assured them that there was no change in their son’s condition, the Hanovers took Greg to a small Japanese restaurant near the hospital for some time away from the stark, sterile, efficient environment. The mood at the table was subdued as they ate from a selection of steamed dumplings, fish, and deep cast iron bowls filled with meat, seafood, vegetables, egg and udon noodles in a rich broth. 

On the walk back to the hospital, Declan’s father began to ask Greg pointed questions about the circumstances surrounding his son’s accident. Greg could feel his body tense and his mind begin to race as he tried to answer the questions in as detached and logical manner as he could manage. As the questions seemed to become more accusatory, Greg became more frustrated because he wasn’t sure how to answer them. Mrs. Hanover tried to calm her husband as she could see the tensions rising on both sides as Greg’s composure finally broke. 

“I don’t know what happened, okay?!” Greg shouted, whirling to face Mr. Hanover. “It was an accident! I got him help as soon as I could! And I don’t know what’s wrong with him!” Shaken and drained, Greg stormed away from Declan’s parents and crossed the hospital driveway with long strides, reentering the hospital. The door to the elevator slid closed as he caught a glimpse of them just coming in through the main entrance.

\-------------------------

Greg was back in his spot at Declan’s bedside, leaning against one chair arm allowing him to face away from the door while draping his long legs over the opposite arm. He moved to sit properly when the Hanovers came into the room, but Declan’s mom insisted that he stay where he was. They hung up their coats and took their seats on the opposite side of the bed. Sitting down in the chair directly across from him, Mr. Hanover apologized, explaining that he’d only been trying to understand what had happened and hadn’t meant to upset Greg.

“I’m fine,” Greg replied brusquely, not looking at the man and effectively ending the conversation. 

\-------------------------

At some point another nurse came in to draw blood. She spoke with Declan’s parents in low, rapid Japanese suggesting that they should go home and get some sleep, and that someone from the hospital would call if there were any changes. The Hanovers thanked the nurse and when she left translated for Greg as they gathered their things to leave.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Monday

Greg resigned himself to another sleepless night, his brain unable to let go of his outburst the previous evening and continuing to second-guess his actions. Blythe found him in the kitchen the next morning looking haggard and worn. 

Moving to start a pot of coffee, she casually asked, “What time did you get home last night? I didn’t hear you come in.” 

Greg absently shrugged, his mind elsewhere. “Don’t know,” he mumbled.

“Is Declan awake?”

Greg sighed heavily before answering. “No. They’ve got him on antibiotics for an infection he seems to have gotten, but his temperature is still going up. The doctors wanted to give the medicine 24 hours to work. They didn’t act like it was any big deal. He’ll probably be awake by the time I get there.”

“So why the long face?”

Greg looked down at the table. “I’m fine.” 

Blythe clucked her tongue softly as she moved around the kitchen. She had seen the state of his bed as she passed by his room. For the second night in a row she could tell that he hadn’t slept -- or if he had, he had slept badly. She sighed to herself, knowing that her son could be just as stubborn as his father when it came to expressing emotion.

“Want some breakfast?”

“No thanks. Declan’s parents are meeting me at the main gate in a little while. I need to go get ready.” 

With that, Greg got up and headed to his room. He made his bed mindlessly, eyeballing the corners and folds that had been drilled into his head at an early age by his father. It was second nature to him by now, and took less than five minutes to go from a complete disaster to inspection-ready.

He showered and dressed, the smell of food drawing him back to the kitchen. Blythe had whipped up a simple plate of eggs and toast for him and set it on the table while ignoring her son’s protestations. Mere seconds later the plate was empty as she watched the teenager sop up the last bit of egg yolk with the toast.

Greg thanked his mom, promising to call later, and pulled a sweatshirt over his head as he walked out the door. He walked to the main gate in the early morning mist, hands stuffed into the front of his sweatshirt, his long strides getting him to the base entrance in short order. He paced waiting for Declan’s parents to arrive, trading the occasional sarcastic barb with the MPs while his mind continued to brood. He hoped Declan would be awake when they got there, if for no other reason than to break his mood.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

When they arrived at the hospital, Greg noticed that there was a lot of activity going on in and around Declan’s room. Doctors and nurses came and went with efficient purpose, their rapidly spoken Japanese a discordant sound while the three of them watched helplessly from the outside.

The opening of the elevator door caught Greg’s eye, and he recognized the slightly stooped older man who exited the car as the janitor who had directed them to the Emergency Department a couple of days before. He was no longer dressed in his work clothes. Instead he was dressed simply, yet none too neatly, and passed through the ward unacknowledged by any of the staff. Greg noticed that some of the nurses went so far as to avert their eyes with a look of disgust as he walked past them, and couldn’t help but wonder why. The janitor made his way toward where Greg and the Hanovers stood, and entered Declan’s room as if he belonged there. 

Suddenly all activity in the room stopped, the pointed voices of the hospital staff dissolving into quiet murmurs. Greg watched in awe as Dr. Nakano and the other doctors and nurses in the room bowed respectfully to the janitor before giving him a wide berth to examine Declan. A myriad of questions flooded his mind: _Who the hell is this guy? Why are they deferring to him? The guy’s a janitor -- what could he possibly do to help?_

Declan’s parents looked on, seeming to grasp the situation far better than Greg. When the janitor had finished his examination, he conferred with Declan’s doctors, who nodded and took notes as he spoke. When he had finished, the doctors and nurses once again bowed in deference to the janitor, who turned and left the room as unobtrusively as he had entered. Greg’s eyes followed the janitor as he made his way back to the elevator, ignored by the rest of the staff as if he didn’t exist.

As soon as the janitor was gone, the doctors set to work, directing the nurses and ordering medication to replace what was being fed into Declan’s IV. When there was a lull in the activity, Greg took the opportunity to ask Mr. Hanover about the janitor and why staff on the ward reacted the way they did to his presence, even as the doctors themselves seemed to hang on his every word. 

“The janitor is what the Japanese refer to as _buraku_ , citizens who have been deemed untouchable for any number of reasons.” Declan’s dad explained. “His ancestors may have been gravediggers or maybe slaughterers. But he is also _dokutoru_ , a doctor. They would never have asked for him to come if they had any other choice. You saw the way the other doctors deferred to him? How they took notes?”

Greg nodded as Mr. Hanover continued. “I didn’t catch what the janitor’s specialty was, but I could tell by the way the doctors and nurses paid close attention to what he had to say that he knew what he was talking about. And yet once he had done his job, it was obvious that they wanted nothing more to do with him. He knew it, they knew it -- and he was used to being treated that way.”

Greg pulled the chair up to Declan’s bedside as Dr. Nakano met with the Hanovers to discuss their son’s case with them, never once mentioning the janitor. He watched as a nurse came in with the new medicine to replace what was hanging from the IV stand and wondered how it was that a simple janitor could know so much more than the doctors on staff yet go through his days barely acknowledged by anyone. He flipped through one of the magazines mindlessly, his thoughts focused on the janitor. He admired what he had seen in the man as he confidently took over from the other doctors in the room, the way the janitor seemingly knew exactly what he was seeing as he examined the patient, then directing Dr. Nakano and the others on how to treat his findings. If I was going to be a doctor, that’s the kind of doctor I would want to be, Greg thought. 

Several minutes later Declan’s parents came into the room, looking far less worried than they had when the three of them had first arrived on the ward. They explained to Greg what the janitor had found during his exam of their son, an infection within Declan’s kidneys that had somehow been missed by Dr. Nakano and his staff. Mr. Hanover told Greg that the new medication the janitor had ordered should start to work quickly to stop the infection from spreading, and that Dr. Nakano expected Declan to start to show signs of improvement within an hour or two.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Greg dozed lightly in the chair, Declan’s parents having taken a break and gone down to the cafeteria. He was slouched down so that his head rested against the chair back, his long legs stretched out with his feet crossed on the edge of the bed, the book he’d started reading open and forgotten on his chest.

“Hey.” The soft weak voice coming from the bed sounded so loud in the silence that Greg almost fell out of the chair. He sat up and looked at his friend, whose drawn and pale face regarded him with wan humor. 

“Look who finally decided to join us. Have a nice nap?”

“You might say that. What time is it, anyway? I’m starving.”

Greg glanced at his watch. “Almost noon.”

“How long have I been out?”

“Since you got here. It’s Monday.”

Declan groaned. “Fuck. No wonder I’m so hungry!”

“Not sure they’re going to let you eat anything just yet. Let me go get a nurse.”

Greg went out to the nurse’s station. He let the charge nurse know that his friend was awake and wondering when he’d be able to eat something. The nurse followed Greg back into the room, checking Declan’s monitor readings and his vital signs before heading out to the phone to contact his doctor.

\-------------------------

When the Hanovers returned from their break, they were surprised to see their son sitting up sucking on ice chips and weakly joking around with his friend. Greg sat back in his chair and watched as Declan’s parents hovered over their son, his mind drifting back to the janitor and how he had made the right diagnosis despite having only examined Declan for only a couple of minutes. _He put those other doctors in their place_ , Greg thought. _They treated him like shit, but still brought him in because they had no other choice. They needed him. And he was right._


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Epilogue

Declan spent the next few weeks in the hospital, until all signs of the infection were gone and the break in his arm was stable enough to be taken out of traction and reset. It would be several more weeks after that before he could return to school, just in time for finals. Greg spent most of his days during the rest of the break at Declan’s bedside, telling stories that would have Declan trying hard not to laugh without hurting himself while Declan’s parents returned to their duties at the Embassy. He made time to return to the base of the cliff to begin the process of collecting their bikes and their gear. 

On his first trip back to _Sebun kawa_ since the accident, Greg spent hours pacing and staring at the rock face, his brain replaying Declan’s fall on an endless loop. He found smudges of dried blood on some of the rocks, which affected him more than he was willing to admit. Try as he might, there was nothing he could think of that he could have done differently to prevent what had happened. 

Eventually all signs that they had ever been there were gone. Greg took one last look around at the area where everything changed in an instant. He had done a lot of thinking during that time, trying to find a deeper meaning in the experience. On an emotional level there was none aside from the knowledge that he had been unable to get it right, to do the right thing. Logically he knew better. It would be a very long time before he could reconcile the two. 

\-------------------------

When Greg was younger, he had buried himself in books about the universe. As he got older he thought he would get his PhD in Physics and study Dark Matter. But memories of the janitor were never far away, and by the time he was ready to start college Greg had changed his mind completely and decided to study medicine. He knew he didn’t want to spend his days dealing with runny noses and crotch rot. He wanted to be like the janitor, the one other doctors had to bring in when they ran out of options.

And that is what he became, a buraku of his own making.


End file.
